I hate skiing although I have never been but I must have really been into it in a past life somehow because I think of skiing metaphors all the time. Right now I feel like cross-country skiing. It’s cold and my nose is frozen, it’s beautiful out for the first 20 minutes-all white and sun reflecting on the trees blowing in the wind and just white pristine woodland for as far as the eye can see. My hair under my hat blowing in the wind, working up a sweat, muscles feeling strong and my heart beating steadily.
Birds singing but wait, there is nothing but snow for as far as I can see. I ski and ski and ski and ski and realize I hate skiing, I don’t know how to ski and I don’t give a shit how beautiful it is outside. Shit. Now I have to pee and I have 10 layers of pants on and they are all sweaty and sticking to me and I will never get them down before hitting the toilet and will surely pee in my pants except, there is not bathroom, just snow.
I keep skiing, pee in my pants and search for somewhere to sit down but the only way forward is down this huge hill and I remember again that I can’t ski. At all. And then, zoom. Screaming, squirrels stare at me with pity because they know I have peed my pants and the rangers will find me dead, pants full of pee. No knowing how to ski, people shake their heads and TSKTSK.
Good intentions with poor planning and now I am stuck in too many pants, in the snow with only squirrels to save me.